


A Horse Of A Different Colour

by Anonymous



Category: Bad Samaritan (2018), Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: SO, hhhh this is gonna get weird just go with it, look im probably gonna be updating the tags and warnings on this as it goes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-25 00:44:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20715278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Chaos meets Control. I'll update you on what happens next when I figure it out myself.





	1. The Umbrella

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't wanna write this and no one wants to read it I'm sure. A compromise.

It's exactly 2:17 PM on a Tuesday afternoon when it starts.

Cale is standing on pavement at a four way intersection, a crosswalk stretched out in front of him, waiting for the light to turn green. It's an utterly grey afternoon, a light drizzle lording over the city, and most people seem to have scattered to their homes and offices. He has thirteen minutes to arrive at his destination in a timely manner, and despite remembering to bring his umbrella his suit isn't entirely dry, but some rules just can't be avoided- besides, it wouldn't do any good to get himself run over. Then he'd end up in the hospital and then he'd _ really _be late-

He rolls his eyes at himself. _ Late. You're such an idiot. _ Just then, the light finally goes off, alerting him to the fact that it is now safe to cross. He's barely taken a step when he hears it.

"I'll be needing an umbrella I suppose…" a stringy voice with an English accent says behind him, then, "You there. Give me that."

Cale pauses. _ What, _ he thinks, _ the fuck? _ He turns to look at his antagonist, an incredulous look on his face, and says, "You mean my _ umbrella?" _

"What else would I mean?! Give it here." The man says, a tall, pale figure in a gaudy purple suit.

Cale is just starting to respond- what is this guy even _ thinking? _ You can't just walk up to someone and ask for their umbrella, it breaks all known rules of social etiquette and all around logic, no one's going to just _ give _ him an umbrella-

And then, he hands over his umbrella.

Cales mind seems to go blank. It happens so quickly he barely processes it, and then he simply_ can't. _

"Finally," Says the man before him, starting to push past as Cale stares on in horror, "If we ever meet again, be quicker."

It haunts Cale the rest of the night, then the rest of the week, then the rest of the month. He can't seem to shake it- it was such a small, insignificant moment, merely a few seconds in what by comparison was an infinitely larger lifetime, but those few seconds feel so much bigger and so much more important. What _ happened? _Why would he do something like that- so illogical, so impulsive, so unlike himself, just because some man on the street told him to. The utter lack of agency consumes his every thought, his every waking moment accompanied by a soundtrack of paranoia and rumination. It's degrading and humiliating- Cale hasn't felt this powerless since-

The one mercy in all this is that for once the violent thoughts and images of bloodshed that plague his mind seem to fade, easing to make room for more monomania on the man in the purple suit who he_ gave his umbrella to. _Of course not even that lasts, and before long he's falling asleep to visions of purple cloth stained red.

He comes to a conclusion.

The man in the purple suit must die.

He starts by hacking into the CCTV cameras structured around the intersection. He must stay at his computer a whole week, doing nothing but staring at the screen and rubbing his eyes, getting up only to use the restroom and get more crackers. He'll admit, it isn't a highpoint.

Finally, half-awake, half-blinded by the computer screen and with half the blood sugar levels he started with, Cales eye catches a figure moving in the crowd. He scrambles to zoom in on the image, and there he is in all his glory, wearing a similarly tacky purple suit. _ The Purple Man, _Cale thinks to himself with a smirk. He starts opening more cameras, intent on keeping up with his target. He follows him all the way to a posh café near Central Park, waits for thirty minutes for him to leave, then follows him back to a penthouse apartment on Lenox Hill.

Then, he takes a shower, because he's certain if he doesn't he'll chuck himself out the window.


	2. The Purple Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cale confronts his own sense of agency.

Cale spends the rest of his week scoping the place out- watching what times The Purple Man leaves, when he comes back, what time his lights are typically out-

And he finds no discernible pattern.

The Man seems to come and go as he pleases. He can leave at 7 AM and return at four in the afternoon, and the next day stay in until 2 PM, not returning until far past midnight. At one point, he stays out for exactly 35 hours and sixteen minutes.

So Cale decides it's time to take matters into his own hands. He needs to know _ when _he can move and exactly how long he has, and he'd prefer not to sit in wait for a day and a half, so he turns to the most logical conclusion.

He orders a package.

Two days later, he walks to the apartment building he's been casing. Of course, he can't walk through the same door his target will be distracted at, so he spends an unfortunate amount of time and energy climbing up fire escapes. He finds the correct window, then waits until he feels his phone buzz._ Your package has arrived!, _ a small notification reads when he pulls it out of his pocket, so he starts setting to work. He pulls out a blade from his toolbelt, and works it in-between the windows two sections of glass. It takes some finagling, but eventually he's able to push it into the lock, _ pop- _ing it open. As he slides the window open, he hears a familiar voice.

_ "Sorry?.... No, I didn't order anything…" _

He climbs through the opening, very nearly taking a tumble onto the floor. The room he steps into is a spacious area, what looks like a joint bedroom and office. There's a hardwood floor and purple curtains, a bed that doesn't look slept in and a desk that doesn't look sat at.

_ "No, I told you, I'm not expecting a package, now disappear from my door and never come back." _

Cale startles somewhat- he'd been hoping that would buy him even just a little more time. He hears what sounds like the front door slamming, and quickly rushes to flatten himself against the wall, deciding to simply use what's already in his hand. In moments, the bedroom door opens, and in walks The Purple Man.

Cale jumps forward, quickly pressing his blade against his targets throat. The Man _ bucks, _a startled cry escaping his mouth, and Cale reaches to cover his mouth, but before his hand makes contact-

"Freeze!"

And Cale freezes.

He can't move. He can't, but inexplicably, he isn't_ trying _to, either. He's just… not moving._ Why isn't he moving._

"Drop your weapon."

Cales blade falls out of his hand and onto the floor with a _clink._

_ "Thank _you!" The Man says haughtily, extricating himself from Cales stiff limbs. He turns to Cale, and smirks. "Now. Sit down."

Cales eyes follow where The Purple Man gestures, to the chair in front of his desk, and… and he walks toward it. _ Why is he walking toward it. Why is he doing what this Man says. _That feeling starts to consume Cale again, that blank panic. He doesn't know how to stop this, doesn't know how to resist, doesn't know how to take back-

Cale is no longer in control.

He can practically feel the bile rising in his throat as he takes his seat. The Purple Man looks down at him like dirt under his shoe, and the only thing Cale hears is his heart thudding in his ears.

"Oh, _ look _ at _ you." _ Says The Purple Man, placing a hand under Cales chin to inspect his face. "So confident only a moment ago, and yet all it takes is a few little words and my _ brave assailant _is trembling like a leaf. Someone doesn't like being told what to do, I take it?"

The Purple Man smirks. Cale feels like he might pass out.

"Now, let's see if we can't figure out what's going on here. Who are you?"

"Cale Erendeich." Cale says, and he can feel himself shaking. He can hear it in his voice, too.

"Why're you here?"

"You took my umbrella." He says, and he flinches at how _ petty _ he sounds, how like the little boy on the playground whining to his bully.

"I take lots of umbrellas." The Purple Man spits out. "What's so special about you? You can't be that important, I haven't the faintest memory of you. Did I say something wrong? I do that sometimes- although I can't imagine I said _ 'give me your umbrella and then kill me'. _ Maybe… _ 'give me your umbrella, the weather is murder'... _ No, _ 'give me your umbrella, it's killing ou-' _no that's ridiculous."

"You told me to be quicker next time." Cale supplies through gritted teeth.

"Oh! Were you especially slow?!" The Purple Man reaches up to grip at his hair excitedly. "Maybe I said you'd be the death of me! That's quite good, isn't it?" He smiles to himself, apparently satisfied with his conclusion.

"No." Says Cale. The Man's smile fades.

"I see." He says gravely, drawing nearer to Cale, and Cale instinctively leans back further in his chair. "It's nothing like that, is it? ...It's because you're _ afraid _ of me, isn't it?"

Miraculously, Cale manages to keep his mouth shut.

_ "Answer me!" _ The Purple Man shouts, and a clumsy _ yes _tumbles out of Cales mouth.

The Man's grin returns.

"There. That wasn't so hard, now was it?" He asks smugly, then starts to turn to the door. "Now then. Stay here, I have errands to run. Don't worry, I'll be back for you."

And with that, he sweeps out the door.

For a while, Cales mind stays blank. All he can do is sit in his chair, and stare. He does start to process what happened eventually, playing it back in his head moment by moment, but he prefers not to dwell on it too long. He can't understand it- the complete and total loss of all sense of agency- and he doesn't want to.

Then, he starts thinking about what he has to do.

_ Stay here, _ The Purple Man had said, but he hadn't said where _ here _ was. He could have meant the chair, sure, but he also could have simply meant the room. _ Or, _ actually, he might have just meant the _ apartment, _surely even that would work for The Man's purposes.

Slowly, he lifts himself from the chair.

He peters around the room for a few minutes, inspecting his place of captivity, taking stock. He tentatively makes his way out of the bedroom and into the rest of the apartment, but try as he might he can't quite convince himself that The Man simply meant for him to stay in the country, and leave the apartment. That's alright, he knows what to do.


End file.
